Doctor Who: The Enigma of Clara Oswald
by Man-Man in a Box
Summary: "Sometimes I think I'm everywhere at once, running every second just to find him... Just to save him." In 2002 a unlikely hero saves the Doctor's life, someone he find oddly familiar. Who exactly was 'the woman in the shop? This one-shot reveals all... Note: The scene with the Doctor is set between 'The Snowmen' and 'The Bells of Saint John'.


**Doctor Who: The Enigma of Clara Oswald**

_I don't know where I am... It's like I'm breaking into a million pieces and there is only one thing I remember. I have to save the Doctor._

_He always looks different. But I always know it's him. Sometimes I think I'm everywhere at once, running every second just to find him, just to save him..._

_But he never hears me. Well, almost never..._

The summer London street was packed to the brim with hustle and bustle as pedestrians navigated the sidewalk and road crossings. The year was 2002, and stores were popping up all over the high-street, ranging from small restaurants and coffee shops to clothing stores and expansive malls.

The Doctor never could understand the human fascination with shopping. He didn't usually carry money so, to him, money wasn't a necessity. But too the humans surrounding him on all sides, and too many other species in the galaxy, money was a lifeline, something that was used to keep you moving forward. It was used to buy food and clothes and other things you couldn't really live without. Money was in short supply, so why did these humans insist on wasting it on pointless items and trinkets? He never did understand. Stranger still, how did they not only embrace, but enjoy this pointless spending?

The Doctor did not usually carry money, and he didn't understand the concept of shopping very well, so that was not what he was walking down a London street in 2002 for, no. He was following a large energy signature that had recently spiked in the middle of London. He didn't know what it was or why it was in early 21st century London but it was suspicious, definitely alien and probably deadly, so he decided to investigate it.

He raised a rectangular, hand-held electronic device to his face, tapping it's screen and checking the readings. It made a series of electronic beeping sounds, and the needle of the plastic compass taped to the top spun around, eventually focusing on a direction to his left.

He stopped in the middle of the street, before turning on his heel and dashing in the direction the needle was pointing. This was not good, the energy signature had spiked sharply yet again, and the electronic beeping sounds were getting louder.

He felt his feet step off the concrete of the sidewalk and make contact with the hard bitumen of the road through his boots. He didn't look to his left or right, or backwards or even forwards, he was too focused on the readings the electronic device was giving him, he was staring too intently at the needle of the compass.

His concentration, his curiosity, had gotten the better of him. So he did not see the car as it came from his left, not until the very last minute...

Mere seconds before he collided with the bonnet of the red two-wheel drive, he felt two hands grab him by the arm and pull him across a small distance. He felt his feet make contact with pavement once more and looked up to see an old, wrinkled, yet somehow familiar face.

The woman was in her early 70s, perhaps older. She had extremely grey hair which was tied up in a bun and a sunken, mask-like face. Her face was wrinkled and worn-out, her nose was slightly crooked. Her lips were thin, her skin rough, her hair devoid of any colour. Yet her eyes seemed startlingly young when placed on her old face. They were large and shone a beautiful, stunning, melancholic shade of dark brown. They made the hairs on the back of the Doctor's neck stand up, they were oddly familiar. He could of sworn he had seen those exact eyes somewhere else. On another face, a younger face.

The woman's voice was also familiar, causing the Doctor's ears to pay attention and his eyes to narrow. "Oh my stars! Are you alright young man? I-I don't why I did that, it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. I'm getting old, my brain must be all worn-out..."

The Doctor cheerfully replied. "Oh, believe me, the brain doesn't necessarily pine with age... I should know." He paused for a moment, looking around him, the woman had pulled him away from the road and onto the pavement opposite the high street.

He then looked down at the old woman, she stood nearly a foot lower then he, and her face was rather rounded. He continued, suddenly remembering he had forgotten to thank his saviour. "Oh, and thank-you." With this he clasped her hand within his and shook it gently, before continuing. "Thank-you very much, you saved my life, well, my current one. Now, let me return the favour."

"What do you mean?" The woman replied, furrowing her brow and speaking in an oddly quick tone.

"Well, right now I'm investigating a massive spike of energy in the middle of London, call it a hobby or side-job but my full-time job... That involves witty banter, running and... Saving people, helping them. I'm the Doctor, it's what I do, and you just helped me. So, if there's ever anything you need, just call this number."

The woman watched as he retrieved, from the inside of his coat pocket, a small, square piece of paper. He flicked it over with his fingers before handing it to her, on it was written, in pen, a long, complicated phone number.

"What's this, dear?" The woman asked.

"Oh, it's a... Helpline, the best helpline in the universe. If there's anything you need, if your in any type of danger, ring that number and I'll respond, and try to help. Trust me, I'm the Doctor." He beamed at her bemused face for a second before turning his back to her and giving her a quick wave as he strolled further down the street.

"Thanks again for that and a pleasure to meet you." He called out as he walked.

She was thinking of replying out-loud. Instead, she simply talked to herself, muttering silently under her breath. "Glad to be of help... Funny man, strange man, rather large chin, terrible dress sense. Now, I better get on with my day."

It was odd, for she had acted out of impulse when she had pushed him away from the car. She didn't know why, she only knew that she had to save that man, that incredible man, that 'Doctor.' She felt quite queer, for she could've sworn she had met him before, long ago...

_11 years later..._

Clara Oswald stood in the middle of the shop. Computers were boxed and stacked on the shelves, laptops and phones stood on stands all around, demonstrating the latest tech and capabilities. She didn't have any idea what exactly they were showing, for Clara Oswald knew next-to-nothing about computers, the Internet, or anything even remotely related to the subject.

The year was 2013, Clara Oswald was 24 years old. Recently, she hadn't been able to access the Internet, she didn't understand why, all she knew is when she opened her laptop up and tried to use an Internet Browser it just wouldn't work, plain and simple. She didn't know why, she only knew that she wanted to use the Internet, and it wasn't available for using.

So she had caught sight of the ICT store while walking down the London high street, and decided to inquire about her computer-related problems there. She was standing at the end of a short queue that led to the staffed counter.

One man finished with his business and exited the line, walking past Clara while exiting the shop. She stepped forward and continued waiting, which was fine, she had patience. But Mr Maitland wouldn't be home forever, so her time was limited and the situation could change any moment. She kept expecting a message to pop-up on her phone, informing her that she was urgently needed to look after Artie and Angie.

The woman in-front of her stepped away from the line, allowing Clara to step up and come face-to-face with an elderly woman who was exactly her height and general shape, in both face and body. The resemblance was undoubtably uncanny, Clara mulled it over for a second, before deciding to ignore it and get down with her business.

"Right, so, my Internet. My, what do you call it? Wi-fi?" She smiled nervously as she spoke.

The old woman gave a curious nod and Clara continued. "Yeah, well, I go onto my computer, I turn it on and it's... Gone. It's not there, the Internet's not on my computer. Shouldn't it, just, you know? Be there?" She made a slight hand gesture to indicate what she was saying.

The old woman looked at her with the same startlingly brown eyes Clara herself possessed, she brushed a lock of silver hair out of her face and replied, leaning over the counter as she spoke. "Well, dearie, I'll be honest with you, I don't know much either. I'm just working here temporarily to sustain my pension but... I do happen to know another person who can definitely help you."

With this, she reached inside a pocket on her dress and retrieved an old, crumpled square of paper. On it lay a long, complicated phone number scripted in pen. The woman held out one wrinkled, creaky hand and handed Clara the phone number.

Clara took it obediently and looked down at it, asking the woman as she examined it. "What's this? Is this the number to a, sort of, techy helpline?" Clara didn't know the exact terminology, her area of expertise lay in other places, not in the complex realm of ICT.

"That it is, dearie. It's not just a helpline, it's the best helpline in the world, in the universe..." She said this in a nostalgic, rose-tinted tone. Clara noticed she had an odd twinkle in her eye as she withdrew from the desk and stood up straight.

"Well, thank-you, I'll definitely call it up, maybe they can help me..."

The woman grasped Clara's hand firmly and shook it steadily. "Glad to be of help, dear."

As Clara exited the line she flashed a smile at the old woman. She held the look of someone who had once been very attractive but who age had unfortunately not been kind too... With her grey hair, wrinkled skin and somehow young-looking, brown eyes. The woman had a sense of... Familiarity to her. Like Clara had met her before but, for some reason, couldn't remember where or when. Clara shrugged off the thought and walked out of the small store, stepping out into the cool Spring air of London in late March.

The old woman felt someone tap her shoulder and turned around to face the store manager. Who was a tall, young, suited man with a business-like air to him.

"Yes, love?" The woman asked.

The manager held out a small, rectangular plastic badge, speaking as he did so. "We finally got your name badge manufactured, I hope you can stay with us a little while longer otherwise this would be a waste of good plastic."

The woman placed one hand on the managers' shoulder. "Oh, you're are a dear, Adrian, I think I might just do that. Thank-you for the badge."

With this she took the little plastic rectangle and turned it over, it read: **Primary Store Clerk: Clara Oswald.**

_Author's Note: I hope everyone enjoyed that story, I just had a good idea that I didn't think would work when shoved into my short-story collection 'Next Stop: Everywhere', so I decided to write it separately. Remember to tell me what you think of this story but reviewing it, and, if you have a question regarding the plot of this story, you can always PM me._


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